


Three Brothers

by Lumiel_lightbringer



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blood, Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, Emotionally Hurt Castiel (Supernatural), Emotionally Hurt Dean Winchester, Emotionally Hurt Sam Winchester, Gen, Hurt Castiel (Supernatural), Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt Sam Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, I probably missed something but i guess you get the point, Injured Castiel (Supernatural), Injured Sam Winchester, Injury, Violence, tagging is hard
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-07
Updated: 2019-05-12
Packaged: 2020-02-27 13:13:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18739744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lumiel_lightbringer/pseuds/Lumiel_lightbringer
Summary: Sam gets injured and cursed on a hunt, leaving Dean and Castiel to try and keep him safe- and alive- while trying to break the spell. After an attempt at fixing the already bad situation, Sam and Cass are hurt and sent to the hospital.





	1. 700 Year-Old Douche-Bag

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry if it sucks- which it probably does, I mean *I'm* writing it- I did the best I could at 4:37 AM when I have school and appointments in a few hours with like 1/3 of my brain working and I kinda... forgot the password to my premium grammarly account so yeah. (grammarly is the only proofreader ill ever get ;-;) anyway, enough sob story or whatever it is this is anymore.  
> TLDR; It's early in the morning and I suck therefore I apologize if my writing is absolute trash.  
> Enjoy? Maybe? Hopefully?

~ 

"Shit!"

Dean's body flies across the room, slamming hard against the dark wooden walls.

"Sam!" He shouts and quickly gains Sam's attention before promptly throwing the iron pipe to the younger.

The weapon, though, is sadly sent clattering to the floor as the witch stands back onto his feet, dusting himself off with puckered lips. He sighs before looking up and tsk-ing the brothers.

"Oh, Winchesters. You know you aren't really living up to expectation."

Sam grunts as he staggers off the ground, his upper half hunched over from the gash in his abdomen.

" _hisssh_ , sorry _Sammy_ ," The witch's condescending voice speaks again, "I thought you would, you know, _dodge_ my spells."

"Shut... Up..." The younger Winchester pants out, slugging forward towards the witch.

"You know, I wouldn't have taken you for the suicidal type, Sammy."

"I said... Shut... Up!" He shouts, whipping out a gun and pulling the trigger. An iron bullet blasts through the witch's skin, muscle, and lands in his gut.

"Well." His voice, now significantly quieter, does not waver, "What a twist." He grins before shrugging and collapsing to his knees, staring up at Sam with mischievous eyes.

He raises a bloody hand, smearing it onto his own forehead in a foreign symbol, before chanting softly, "Ut malediceret tibi. Ut dolorem, cruenti fatum. Abominabitur vos omnis sanguis mane et omnem tussim in eum et solis occasum. Metus faucibus egestas et corpore pallor infirmat primis autem non potest."

The man lowers his head and closes his eyes, before allowing the inevitable to take control, as his body falls limp on itself, and his eyes grow glassy.

"Fuck," As the word leaves his lips, Sam's eyes roll back into his head, and he collapses backwards.

"Sam!" Dean pulls himself to his feet, pushing past the searing pain in his back from the bruises that are no doubt blossoming up like drearily-grown tulips; blues and purples that fade into greens and yellows.

The older reaches the collapsed's side in a matter of seconds, sparing no time on his own misery with each and every movement. "Breathe, Sammy, breathe," Dean mumbles, reaching under Sam's arms to get a firm grip on the younger.

It takes a minute to secure Sam in the older, yet smaller, brother's arms, but Dean manages it nonetheless: a right arm under Sam's left, looped around his back and down to grasp his side.

With a deep breath, Dean takes the first of many, many dreadful steps forward.


	2. Feathery Ass

~

"God dammit," Dean mutters out, his arms sore as he lies Sam down onto the motel room bed. The covers, previously an odious checkering plaid of warm brown and a sickening yellow (that Dean swears is honestly more green than anything), becomes speckled with various shades of red as blood, probably too much for one human, splatters out of Sam's mouth.

The younger Winchester lets out a rough cough, and more clots of the red matter and mucus explodes out. Even through the painful endeavor, Sam remains in a state of unconsciousness, his pulse weak and his breathing, albeit slow, a worrying wheeze.

"Cass, we could use some of your angelic mojo right about now!" Dean calls out, turning and staring up at the oddly water-stained ceiling of the one-floor motel room.

"What happened?" Castiel appears beside the bed with the sick Winchester residing in it. The question, although stated as more of an order, relieves the older brother. Dean turns on his heels and lets out a sigh of relief at the sight of the trench-coat clad angel.

"Oh, God, Cass," Dean surprises the angel by tackling him into a tight hug. The older stumbles back and tenses up at the action, but Dean doesn't pull away until hearing Sam begin coughing up yet again more blood.

"It's Sam, he- he got cursed by some 700 year-old douche-bag witch. He's been hacking up blood since."

"I cannot fix a curse, Dean."

"Can't or won't?" Dean demands, turning to give Castiel an accusing glare, "Because, last I checked, you could pull me out of Hell and Sam out of the damn Cage."

"Can't, Dean. I can't. It is not within my powers."

"Oh and pulling us out of literal Hell is?"

"Yes, it is. I am an angel, not a witch, Dean. Only a _witch_ can cure a curse caused by another _witch_." Cass gives the older Winchester a look as he finishes speaking, emphasizing his words to make a final point.

"Fine, fine. But you're helping us track down this assbag."

"You say that as if I was not going to."

"Oh, so you _were_?" Dean's eyes narrow almost accusingly. Castiel rolls his eyes.

"Yes, I was. Dean, you may not see it," The angel shifts in place, "but I do care for you and Sam."

Dean lets out a long sigh, turning and pacing alongside the beds, "Yeah, well, it ain't that obvious."

"Yes, I can see that, now. Especially with..." He gestures weakly, his face contorted into an uncomfortable grimace.

"With you working with Crowley? Yeah, yeah, that's kinda a big give-away considering he  _kidnapped_  two people I care about and tricked Sam and I into working for him! No, no everything's just  _peachy_  we're all prancing in the fields eating pie together! Don't you see the friendship bracelets we made for you and Crowley?"

"Dean!" Castiel glares up at the Winchester, his eyebrows furrowed and his lips pursed together. The angel takes a step closer so the two are only inches away, "There is no reason for you to take that tone with me, Dean. I saved you and your brother and am offering to  _help_ _you_  when a civil war is being fought in Heaven. You may not agree with what I am doing, but I am not pleased about the arrangement either. Do you think I really  _want_  to work with the King of Hell?"

"You've been spying on us and refusing to help when we needed it! Now you're flirting with a demon and prancing your feathery ass around with monsters!"

"Maybe you should stow your judgement, Dean, and let me help you  _now_  before I take my 'feathery ass' back to Heaven and lead a war! I am not going to appear whenever you two stub your toe. I have a war to fight, Dean, and the fact that I am here right now instead of in Heaven says a lot about how much I actually care. Now, do you want my help, or should I  _prance_  back up to Heaven?"

Dean stares at Castiel for a few prolonged minutes. Finally, he sighs and looks down, shaking his head. "You're an ass, you know that?" He mutters, looking up. "Yeah. Fine. I want your help. Just..." He waves a vague palm at Castiel's chest, "Keep your demon bestie away from us, got it?"

Castiel nods, silently.

"Got it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the short update - I did my best, though it might (read: definitely) is not *the* best.


End file.
